Tales of the Rainforest Wars
by Chris000
Summary: A teenager travels on the road to become a man. Take a trip back in time to see how Chris James Vennettilli became the captain he was in the UNSC, while all the while, covering the terrible reality of war.
1. Foreword

Tales of the Rainforest War

By Chris 000

Foreword:

Wow, is this series ever going to end? I hope it never does. I'm having WAY too much fun writing these things. OK, here's the scoop. If you've read my previous stories (Shadow in the Dark, The Terran Incident, Infested, and the time being, uncompleted Soldier's Log) you'll know Chris Vennettilli, a UNSC marine that explored a strange alien dimension and kicked ass all over the place. If you haven't, then this'll be a great opportunity to learn about Chris's late childhood, his induction into the Marine Corps, and above all, how he got where he did when we first saw him at the beginning of 'Soldier's Log'. Well, buckle up for a little lesson in history as we cover valiant battles, tales of sadness, and just about everything else I can put into this story.

Enjoy,

Chris000


	2. Chapter 1: Introduction

Chapter 1: Introduction

August 14th 3230 07:00 AM

New York City, NY, District 32

5 years ago…

The sun rose slowly over New York City, the capitol of the world. Sunlight reflected off the skyscrapers that rose thousands of meters into the air. Cars slowly made their way along the clustered roadways and their aerial counterparts jetted onwards in a straight line. In a skyscraper just off the main road, an alarm clock went off. Chris Vennettilli woke up. He stretched as he sat up in bed. Chris decided to shut off the clock to stop the beeping before his neighbors woke up. The young man ruffled his hair and stood up

"Good morning, me." He said to himself.

Chris had turned 16 only two months ago and had applied for his driver's license. So far, he was phase 2 which meant he was qualified for almost any land based vehicle. His parents went away to New Lagaspi on Mars for summer holiday. Chris had volunteered to stay behind so he could work for money to go to University. Every cent counted. Chris was in his final year of High school so every cent counted. (In grade school, the kindergartens were eliminated and high school was shortened to two years. So was post-secondary education.)

Breakfast was plain and simple, scrambled eggs with bacon on the side. Chris was no Emeral Lagassi but he knew how to make just about anything. This of course didn't mean that he couldn't burn it. Luckily, the eggs turned out OK.

About an hour after he woke up, Chris sat on the couch and flicked on the TV. The infrared signal told the TV to release its gas to be heated to produce any color of the spectrum. The first channel on was the news. Chris edged forward so that he could listen to the reporter

"Today, the rebels located on Talahan IV have shown no signs of surrendering to the United Nations Space Command, and have begun aggressive skirmishes against the Marine Corps on surrounding planets in the system. General Kits of the Marines states that an open conflict may rise from these 'inexcusable and unprovoked attacks on other worlds.'" The reporter shuffled his papers and continued on to another subject. "In other news, Covenant Loyalist groups under the leadership of the High Prophet of Pity have continued their attacks on Outer Colony peoples; the most recent strike on New Harvest claimed two thousand lives when their Specters opened fire on a small town. Thankfully, Human Marines in the area were able to repel them from the surface and the UNSC Destroyer _Farscape_ drove them from the system. We'll continue our broadcast after this message."

Chris turned off the TV as soon as the broadcast ended.

"That conflict's gonna end in war I know it." He said to himself.

Chris stepped onto the elevator with his best friend Charlie "Chuck" Madison. "Big C, what's up?" Chris smiled as he shook his friend's hand. "Nothing much, man." Chuck said, "Did you see the news this morning?" Chris cocked his head. "You mean the part about those rebels or the Covenant?" "Both man, both!" "Yeah. What about it?" Chuck stared at his best friend. "I mean, don't you want to do something about it?" Chris thought about it. "Well, not really. It's not my problem I mean." "I feel like it's my problem though." Chris chuckled. "So what are you thinking, you're going to enlist in the Marines?" Chuck nodded. "If it comes to that, when I'm old enough I will." Chris looked at him, he was serious. "What did your parents say?" Madison said, "My pops was pretty proud of me. He was a Marine almost 20 years ago. He even still has his armor." Chris then asked, "What did your mom say?" Chuck shook his head, "She wasn't too sure. She thinks it may be dangerous. What about you?" Chris looked out the window at the skyline that was slowly growing above them. "I'm going to work with my dad after this. He's got that law firm up on 98th Sky Avenue." "Oh right, that's where it is. Pretty sweet. But like I always think, there's always room in the galaxy for one more jarhead. And that's all it takes to make a difference." Chris laughed. "Nothing stops you, huh, Charlie?"

The elevator came to a halt. The two teenagers walked out into the plaza which was directly below their skyscraper. The area was filled with people heading for work, catching busses, trams, air taxies and just about anything with wheels. "Wow, must be a busy day." Chuck noted. "The hell it is." Chris said. "Hey, there's a new movie playing at the Cinema, right?" Chuck racked his brains. "'Hell-bent Vengeance'? Yeah I think it is." Chris said, maybe we can see it then catch some lunch later.

After the movie, Chris took his car out of the parking lot to get to a restaurant. "So, remind me again why you don't have your license?" "As you know, my friend, I'm not too good behind a wheel and I uh, "accidentally" drove into a stop sign." Chris looked at him for a second then concentrated on the road. "What is it now, the 3rd time you failed?" "I lost count." Chuck joked.

At a table, after they ordered, Chuck asked his friend, "So, I don't think I asked you this but, where are you heading after high school?" Chris thought about it. "Yale." Charlie nodded. "That's a real high end school." Chris asked Chuck, "How about you?" "Well, I'm gonna put out a few applications but I'm banking on Emerald Cove University." "Emerald Cove?" "Yeah! From what I hear from the flyers is that it's a tropical planet, great facilities, oh and the _women_…" "Well, it looks like you pretty much have your mind made up." Chris said looking at his friend's face. He accepted his order from the waiter and got to work. "No let's shut up and eat." "Amen, bro."

Later that night, Chris got a phone call from his parents in New Legaspi. They told Chris that they would be back later the next day. Chris was excited to see them again. He hadn't seen his folks for over a month. The thought of them coming to meet him at the spaceport gate was overwhelming. The young man slept peacefully that night.

At around 3:00 the next day, Chris drove to the JFK International Spaceport. It was rush hour so he got there a little later than he expected. At the first terminal, he asked the woman at the desk about his parents' flight.

"I'm sorry, sir. That flight hasn't come in yet." Chris was puzzled. "Do you know why?" She checked her computer. "No, sir. I'm sorry. How about you take a seat in the waiting area and we'll call out the flight when it arrives." Chris nodded. "Sure. Thanks."

Chris spent the next hour sitting in the lounge still watching for the space liner to touch down on the runway outside. Watching baseball recaps on the television got boring. Soon he decided to walk around the area. There flights were coming and going to systems near and far. Chris backed up. He noticed a plume of smoke rising from the far distant United States Tower. He went back to see the woman at the desk. She noticed him and said,

"I'm sorry, sir. The flight still hasn't landed." Chris pointed over his shoulder. "There's smoke rising from the US Tower. I think a plane crashed there." The woman looked out the window and saw the smoke and flames. "I think you should leave sir. I need to call someone about this." Chris turned and walked away, feeling sorry for whoever was on that flight.

Sitting in the chair again, he waited for another hour before a man in a suit came to see him. "You're Chris Vennettilli?" Chris looked up to the man. "Yes, sir." The man looked at Chris and said, "I think you should come with me." Chris walked behind the man wondering what he did. Behind him, hundreds of tourists and citizens paused to look out of the window at the blazing tower.

The room Chris was led into was small with a lamp over it. It seemed to be an interrogation room that criminals were put in. "Sit down, son." He said politely. Chris sat in the chair obediently. The man said, "So, do you have any questions before we start?" he had one. "Who are you?" The man took a breath. "My name's not important. What I can tell you is that I'm from the Government. I can't be specific on which part." Chris nodded. "Right." The man asked, "Coffee?" Chris declined kindly. The Government Man looked at Chris. "I understand that you were the first to witness the explosion on the United States building?" Chris nodded. "Yes sir, but what's that got to do with…" The man held up a hand to signal him to stop. "We recovered what we could from the wreckage. We've found major pieces of information including where the flight departed from and a passenger roster." Chris didn't like where this was going. "The flight in question came from the city of New Legaspi on Mars." The pressure built up in his mind. "Your parents were on that flight." Chris stared at the table. He felt a tear well up in his eye and streak down his cheek. He dreaded the next sentence. "There were no survivors of that flight."

That did it. Chris raised a hand to his face. The other pounded fiercely into the table. The pounding was so hard that it left a mark in the table. "I'm sorry." The man said. Chris didn't hear him. Nor did he care. They were gone. Gone forever. Tears were streaming unchecked. He collapsed sobbing on the table. Trying not to believe a word of it but knew the horrible, horrible truth. "I know what you're going through is hard to comprehend. But believe me; we will catch the people who did this to you." Chris didn't care about anything. He just wanted his parents back.

Chris got home late that night. As soon as he got into his home, he opened up his father's alcohol cabinet. He knew he was underage, but now was a good a time as ever to get wasted. He gathered the strongest of all the drinks and put them into one single glass. The result was possibly the most mind dulling drink he had ever laid his lips on. After he was done, he needed to lie down. Sleep was forced upon him by the alcohol. Dreamless, meaningless sleep followed. After all the happiness he thought he was going to enjoy with his parents, all he was left with at the end of the day was the shocking, saddening truth that he was now alone, all alone.


	3. Chapter 2: Drafting

Chapter 2: Drafting

August 14thth 3232 7:30 A.M.

2 years later…

Chris woke to the same alarm clock he always did. He hit the 'snooze' button more aggressively. The house he woke up in was _his_ house now. A week after his parents' death, Chris received the deed to the dwelling, and all the possessions his parents had. He had no immediate sibling and his two cousins were 12 and lived all the way on Venus, so he had it all. It did him no good knowing he had all he needed. As a matter of fact, it made him more depressed knowing the fact that he had no one, legally to share it with. There was a diploma and a degree hanging on his wall from Yale. He had received his Masters in Law and BFA in Computer Science. He didn't apply for a job yet. He needed to relax for a while. He was amazed with himself that he managed to graduate instead of dropping out. So sluggishly, he got out of bed to start another day.

The phone rang. He longed to call out, "I'll get it." But nobody would hear it except the assistant drone Chris named Jack.

"Hello?" Chris asked. On the other line, Chris heard his girlfriend, Michelle Anderson. "Hey Chris! How's it going?"

Chris smiled. Michelle made him feel so much better. "Hey, Michelle. Thing's are going good." She noted the small droop in his voice. "What's wrong, sweetie?" "Oh, it's just, today's the anniversary of well, you know…" "Oh that's right. I'm sorry I didn't realize!" "No, no that's OK. I think I'm starting to get over it." Michelle asked, "Are you sure?" Chris shrugged even though she couldn't see. "Well, I think so anyway. It just, its still so soon after the whole thing." He didn't need to say anymore. "I know how you feel, Chris. I lost my dad when I was little to cancer. My mom hasn't been very close to me either. Don't worry. Things are going to turn around for you soon." "Are you sure?" "I promise. Anyway, I have to go. Maybe we'll talk later." "Alright." Chris said. "Love you." She answered, "Love you too. Bye!" "Bye." They both hung up.

Chris started towards the door. A walk always made him feel better.

Thousands of miles away in Sydney, Australia, hundreds of meters underground, a secret meeting took place. At that meeting, the heads of the military spoke where no eye or ear could see or listen. At the chairs sat General Kits of the Marine Corps, Fleet Admiral Hugh Redby, Major General Walter Cole, Colonel Hal Jager, and Vice Admiral Gerome Andsworth discussed the issues with the now, well-developed war on Talahan IV.

"All I'm saying, General is that we aren't getting enough recruits into this war. The Talahan IV Rebels have more planets than we thought." Colonel Jager complained. "Noted, Colonel." Kits replied. "And I agree with you by the way. Reports have also confirmed that leftover armament from the Robot Wars have found their way into the Rebels' hands." Andsworth looked at Kits. "That's over a million megatons of AMWHs. Those are the bombs that cracked Maleficent V in two!" Kits nodded. "That's precisely why we need the manpower. Anti-Mater War Heads launched on smaller planets in the Talahan System may as well be wiped off the galaxy maps. And millions of people inhabit each one." "So what are you suggesting?" Cole asked Kits. Kits shook his head with grief. "We need to draft more men and women into the military." Every man in the room looked at each other. Admiral Redby said, "We haven't done a drafting since Harvest! And that was over 600 years ago! You can't be serious, General." "But I am Hugh. We need almost three million more men from Earth alone. The rebels have bolstered their ranks to almost 3 billion." Andsworth shook his head. "The public isn't going to like this. If they get hold of what's going on, they'll revolt and refuse to fight."

Kits sighed. "I'll make sure it won't come to that." The brass looked round to him. "We're on the edge of victory. Drafting these men will deliver the striking blow that'll cripple the enemy and force them into surrender." Cole was outraged. "That's propaganda! The UN promised that after Maleficent V…" "There's no other choice!" Kits said loudly. "Another thing, most of our officers in both the Marines and Navy are dead. We need to select about a million new troopers to be part of a temporary program to boost the rank of a soldier very quickly, allowing them to gain a higher rank much sooner than a normal soldier we already have We could make Captains out of Privates in as soon as 3 years!" Andsworth shook his head. "I still think it's a bad idea." Kits looked at Andsworth. "If you have a better idea, Vice Admiral, I suggest you tell me now." Andsworth stayed silent. "Now, I have a few cities we could pick from." He displayed a few satellite photos. "There's Vancouver, Toronto, Washington, Berlin, Rome, Moscow, Mexico City, Edmonton, Seattle, New York, Cleveland, Boston, Miami, and Chicago. We have to select 3. Take your time." After a few minutes, Cole said, "Vancouver." Redby said, "Chicago." And Andsworth answered, "New York."

"We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you this breaking news."

Chris wheeled around along with hundreds of other people in the World Trade Center Memorial Plaza. The voice had come from one of the hundreds of giant video screens in the city that were on the side of buildings. "Just hours ago, the generals of the Marine Corps has ordered a mandatory drafting in New York City." Chris heard the frightened gasps of the citizens behind him. The reporter continued. " All citizens between the ages of 18 and 30 must make their way to the nearest medical facility for physical examination. More on this report as it develops. Thank you."

Chris walked with a hundred other men and women to the doctor's office where they would receive a physical. At the door, a nurse showed Chris in. However, instead of Dr. Clive Dawson-Chris's normal physician-stood a military doctor wearing the medical smock. He noticed the three red military chevrons on the doctor's sleeve. The man looked at him and smiled.

"Come on in, son." He said to him. "Yes, sir." Chris said signaling authority. "Just a few questions for you first." Chris shrugged. "Okay." The doctor nodded and took out a clipboard and a pen. "What is your weight?" Chris answered, "189 pounds." The doctor nodded and noted it. "Have you had any diseases recently?" "No." the man nodded and wrote again. "Any physical disabilities?" "Not that I know of."

The questions went on for a few minutes, the ended.

"Alright, now on to the physical. Please take off your shirt." Chris obliged. The doctor put a stethoscope on Chris's left breast listen to the heartbeat. Chris shuddered as the cold metal touched his warm flesh. The doctor nodded again. He then checked Chris' blood pressure and eyesight, a few eye, hearing, and reaction tests as well. After all that he asked Chris to put his shirt back on.

"Thanks for your help, son. We'll be sending a letter in the mail if you're accepted." "Right, you're welcome." Chris took a look at the doctor. He wasn't sure that he liked the man anymore. Chris walked down the hall with hundreds of eyes watching him.

A few days passed. He heard the ding that mail had arrived on his computer. He checked into his mail account and read the following letter

Dear Sir/Madame

You have been selected to fight alongside the most prestigious military forces in the known galaxy, the United Nations Space Command Marine Corps. Your medical results have been confirmed as:

EXCEPTIONAL

You will depart with the rest of the recruits on August 17th at JFK International Spaceport at 1200 hours EST aboard the transport _Langlois_ to the UNSC destroyer _Poseidon_ (DES-148) that will depart to Alpha Centauri II. Report to Fort New Hampshire and await orders.

Good Luck,

Semper Fi

UNSC Recruiting Office 0123-517

Note: Failure to comply with above statement will result in imprisonment as per

UNSCLAW/JAG/12A-D17/

Press ENTER to Continue

Chris stared at the letter and reread it a few times. This was it; he was going to join the Marines. Chris figured he might as well tell Chuck. On the way down the hall, he ran into him. "Chris! Chris! Guess what?" "What is it, Chuck?" Chris asked. "I just got into the Marines!" Chris raised his eyebrows. "Really? So did I." Chuck smiled. "You did? That's great! We're gonna smash rebels together! Dad's real proud of me. He's gonna give me his old armor. It fits me like a charm!" "I'm happy for you, Chuck." Chris said. Chuck looked at him seriously. "Hey, Chris, I know you're not the same since your parent's deaths, but you can't turn away from this. You ever consider that this might be your destiny?" "Right. Destiny. You mean like we have our paths written out for us like we're characters in a book." "Chris, You have to do this. You seriously don't want to risk the rest of your life in prison. You know what they do to guys in there?" Chris shuddered the sighed. "Alright. I have no choice. We have to do this." Chuck nodded approvingly. "You'll get used to it."

The next day, Chris stood in with the other people waiting to board the transport to the destroyer. He saw the look of excitement in their eyes, apparently the promotional videos of amazing locales, thrilling battle, and glorious victory got to them. Chuck was right behind him. "Window seat?" he suggested. Chris sat a few rows from the entryway. As soon as the last person boarded, an armored marine stepped from the cockpit and addressed the recruits. "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. My name is Staff Sergeant Klark. I will be the UNSC's representative to you. It will take roughly a day to reach the Alpha Centauri system. If it is your first spaceflight, I'll go through some of the basics. First off, don't panic. The hull here is made out of Titanium-A battle plate over two feet thick. There is no chance of a blowout unless somebody drills through the Plexiglas windows. Secondly, there might be a chance of weightlessness. Don't unclip your seatbelts. These aren't the science tapes you saw in school where astronauts float around. Lastly, please don't try to resist the acceleration through the atmosphere, your neck may snap and we lost a few recruits before we even reached the destroyer, so please sit back, relax and enjoy the flight." He turned to the pilots. "Alright, take us outta here." The pilots nodded and pressed a few buttons.

Chris heard the engines whine as they started up. The ship started to rumble, and it lifted off. Some of the recruits smiled as the ship started to rise. Chuck said, "Awesome." Then the main engines kicked in. The transport shot through the clouds. Chris felt his head pressed to the back of the seat. The outside of the ship turned orange as the transport punched through the atmosphere.

In mere minutes, the towering skyline of New York City turned into a mass of glowing sticks jutting through the clouds. Only a few reached the outside of the atmosphere. And a few more minutes after that, Chris couldn't see any buildings anymore. Earth was just a blue ball illuminated by the system sun, Sol.

The _Poseidon_ grew closer and closer, a large ship that was lit up by the sun and its running lights. Chris could see the emblem of a blue circle with a golden trident painted on the stern of the ship. "So that's the boat we're taking to training?" Chuck asked. "I guess so." Chris shrugged.

The pilots activated the docking thrusters and eased the _Langlois_ into an airlock ring. A thump resonated through the hull and a green light lit up over the airlock. The door slid open and Klark walked back to the troop center. "Alright, maggots! Get off this ship on the double! Move it, move it, move it!" None of the recruits thought twice. Every man and woman double-timed it out the airlock, through the transparent walkway and into the _Poseidon_. MPs assigned soldiers into a room. Chris and Chuck chose a window bunk. "Well, let's settle in, maybe grab some shuteye." Chris suggested. And lied down on the bed.

About half an hour later, the destroyer turned around and started to accelerate out system. Chris noticed that near the moon, there was a small structure in lunar orbit. Chris squinted and he saw that it was an ancient jumpgate. Chris knew all about the jumpgate. It was constructed hundreds of years ago by Dr Matthew Mobius. It was closed off because in the initial test, all the colonists, one million in all, vanished from existence.

Chris hoped it stayed closed, although, he couldn't help but wonder what was behind that hyperspace portal. Did the colonists find a place among the stars hundreds, maybe thousands of light years away? Or did the just vanish? Too much thinking. Chris needed to get some sleep. Just as the rip into slipspace opened using the Shaw-Fujikawa translight engines, Chris nodded off to bed.


	4. Chapter 3: Boot

Chapter 3: Boot 

August 19th 3232 0130 h (Military Calendar)

UNSC _Poseidon_ (DES-148)

Exiting Slipspace rupture above

Alpha Centauri II

The flash of light gave way to the cold dark of space. Chris sat up and rubbed his eyes. Chuck was already up staring out the window.

"Where are we?" Chris asked. "Look out the window." "Chuck said pointing to the outside. Chris stood up and walked beside his friend. Outside, there were five spheres floating in the vacuum. One, the giant rock that was Alpha Centauri II, barely illuminated in the morning suns. The second, Ceta Centauri, the water moon that was inhabited with people living on floating cities, the other three circles were the flaming suns of the system, the far one a dull shade of cool red. "Looks like we made it pal." Chuck said giving his friend a knuckle on the shoulder.

"Alright, recruits, step into the pelicans, 30 each. Anyone that doesn't get in, wait your turns." Klark said motioning the young marines into D77H-TCI Pelican dropships. Chris and Chuck managed to get into the second pelican that went out. The extra troop attachment kept the men in. As soon as Chris strapped in, he saw the hatch seal shut and the bottom of his stomach rose sickeningly. He saw a young man heave breakfast five seats aft. A few men near him groaned. It wasn't pretty seeing vomit in zero gee. The gravity returned as the Pelican started accelerating. All asses dropped into their seats quickly. The outside of the Pelican turned orange as it hammered that atmosphere at nearly 1000 KPH. The reentry cleared and outside, the recruits saw fir trees streak past, the peaks of which covered in snow. The back hatch dropped open and the pilots called from the cockpits.

"OK, kids, welcome to Hampshire Valley! Your new home is just up ahead. When the Pelican banked, Chris saw the training facility. Fort New Hampshire was huge. The facilities alone covered nearly forty acres, but the firing, scenario, and testing ground had to be almost twice that size. It was like a small city. The small dropship came down slowly onto a pad marked "H". The Landing gear folded out and the shocks compressed as they hit the ground. Beside them, Pelicans, AH-94 Iroquois helicopters, and Albatross Dropships landed and took off. And beyond those, Chris saw the 'Mechs.

BattleMechs or 'Mechs for short were walking war robots that were anywhere between 5 to 100 feet height and just about the same tonnage dispersion. It took only the best to learn how to drive them.

"Alright, lets get off the pelican, RIGHT NOW you little worms!" a voice barked. Chris snapped out of it and looked at who was making the noise. A man who was in his late thirties wearing a camouflage uniform, combat armor, and a DI hat looked at them. "What the hell are you standing around there for? I SAID GET YOUR WORTHLESS ASSES OFF THAT DROPSHIP NOW!" Chris didn't need to be told thrice. He got off the dropship and lined up with the other recruits. The man kept walking down the lines.

"My name is Staff Sergeant Remus Stacker. I will be your drill instructor until further notice. Now I'm going to say your name and you will say 'present'. If this is too difficult for your tiny-ass brains please tell me now!" No one spoke. "Alright, lets go. Bruce Aer."

"Present!" Aer called. Stacker looked up at Bruce. "I think you forgot something, son." Aer's eyes darted back and forth. "Present, sir?" "That's much better, boy. Now the rest of you little pukes remember to address me as Sir, Sergeant, Sergeant Stacker, Staff Sergeant or Your Majesty, are we understood?" A few soldiers snickered. "I heard that you little bitches. That's two laps around the track right there as soon as we get into uniform!" the sergeant barked. Chris recoiled after seeing how brutal he was. He continued on with the names pausing only to make fun of the soldiers who were unfortunate to have them, like Rolen Klump, Al Beedle, Joe Ladowski, Calum Lumenum, Bart Lumb, and Gizelle Hamm. "Charles Madison!" Stacker demanded. Chuck calmly said, "Present, Sarge." Stacker walked over to Chuck and said to him, "My daddy knew your daddy, the fought in the Hamlet Rebellion 20 years ago. He was a helluva soldier. We'll make a jarhead outta you yet." The names kept going

"Christopher Vennettilli!" Johnson said, "Present, SIR!" Chris announced. "I have to say, son, your name is by far the longest fucking name I have ever seen." "Sir, if it helps you, sir. You can call me Chris." Stacker then said, "I can call you whatever the hell I want. I can call you Vinny, Bob, Stan, my bitch, Elvis, it don't matter." He checked the clipboard, and then stared back at Chris for a second. "Then again, I guess I shouldn't insult you for too long. Lets see what we can do with you, and I hope you earn this title." "Wait, what title, sir?" "It's above my pay grade, maggot." Chris turned to Chuck. "What did he say?" "He ain't saying anything to you, Chris. Wonder what he meant 'this title'?"

"You really go me, Chuck."

The trainees were marched into a building where a doctor shaved most of the marines' hair. Chris shuddered as the blades cut his brown locks down, leaving his hair at nearly one centimeter. After that, was an injection into his blood stream. The doctors told him that they were a new generation of implants in which removal wouldn't be fatal upon removal or painful. The needle slipped into his shoulder and the clear fluid shot into his veins and the heart instantly pushed it down his arm and back to the heart, ready for distribution. "The implants will allow you to be targeted by friendly forces, serves as a personal radio transceiver and a GPS system that can be shown on your HUD when you get a helmet."

After that, the men met outside and they saw Sergeant Stacker, the suns were almost over the top of the highest mountain. "Let me show you your barracks." Chris sighed, finally, a break. The jog was almost five minutes long when the finally arrived at a building that looked like an Earth Native American longhouse. Inside was a dimly lit room with a living room with TV, exercise room, and in the back a large amount of beds. "Alright platoon, your rooms are in the back." The groups moved into the bed area where pressed uniforms with each trooper's name on one. "You have five minutes to get these on, then we go outside again." a private said, "Wait, we're not resting?" Stacker wheeled around and smiled. "What are you, high? Of course we're not. We need to spend a little quality time together here. Five minutes, then calisthenics then a quick run through the obstacle course. If I feel you sorry excuses for human beings earn it, you'll have five hours rest. Move it."

Calisthenics weren't that bad. Stacker lined up the men and ordered them to do fifty jumping jacks. All the men obeyed and started doing the exercise. "Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three… How you doing, man?" Chuck asked Chris. "I'm barely keeping it together, man. I've never done this many jumping jacks in one sitting."

"Move it, Marines! Sit ups, PRONTO 20, take a three second break, 19, take a three second break, and so on…What the hell are you waiting for? MOVE!" The soldiers thumped on the ground and started moving on with the exercise. Once that was done, Chris's stomach burned intensely as the muscles. "We're not done, Marines! I want pushups!" Stacker barked. The soldiers obediently did as he told them. Chris had only done pushups in gym class. Stacker was much more serious about how they were done in Fort New Hampshire." I wanna see you all kiss the ground. The man with the least number of pushups has to run two laps around this track. Stacker gestured to a large track that some marines were jogging on. It seemed to be one kilometer for each straightaway. "MOVE, MAGGOTS!" the sergeant barked. The men immediately obeyed and started doing pushups. One soldier asked, how long, sir?" Stacker knelt down to his height. "Until I say so!" Chris and a few others scowled behind Stacker's back. Chuck said, "This ain't so bad. My pops used to give me tons of these every day!" Chris didn't like it at all. He was at nearly one-hundred-twenty when Stacker said, "Up, Marines!" The ones who had to do two laps were unfortunately, the ones who sniggered at the Sergeant's joke a few hours ago.

We begin our obstacle course now! Please take a helmet from the quartermaster! You'll need one!" The recruits groaned and got to their feet. Each man and woman took a Kevlar helmet similar to 21st century Marines. They automatically ran along with Sergeant Stacker who had more energy than the rest of them, considering that he did the exercises with them.

The obstacle course was fairly linear. The first obstacle was what was referred to as The Wall-tall boards to timber that stretched 30 feet into the air. Small handholds were engraved into the wood. "Get moving! Up the wall, now, now, NOW!" Stacker barked. Private Aer climbed the wall first and made it over without incident. The other marines followed. Private Ladowski slumped over the top of the wall and fell down injuring his back. Only two marines didn't get over the wall at all and were fined 10 pushups.

It was Chris's turn next. He sprinted at the wall and jumped. To his amazement he latched on to the third set of handholds five feet up. Stacker looked on impressed and noted it on his clipboard. The young man climbed over and dropped down to the ground, bending his knees to absorb the impact. "Nice!" Aer said clapping Chris on the back.

The rest of the Marines climbed over The Wall and went on to the next section. "Alright, Maggots! Before you is a long metal tube. I want you to crawl through the tube in single file. "Easy enough." Private Ladowski said chuckling. The exercise went smoothly.

Now here's where we test your guts, Marines. He nodded to someone. Before them was a small dug out ditch with barbed wire strung over it. Above them, somebody fired a machine gun. The noise generated from the weapon was intense. A few marines flinched and covered their eyes and ears. "Come on, you bitches! Climb under the wiring! Don't you fucking dare stand up!" Stacker yelled over the gunfire. Chris went first, diving into the muddy ditch. The mud splashed on his uniform. And he inched under the whizzing bullets. He prayed that the gunner wouldn't get the idea of squeezing a few rounds at him. Luckily his fear was unrealized and he made it through. Chuck and the others followed seeing how Chris took the initiative. Stacker nodded again.

Other obstacles on the course included swinging over muddy water (which three Marines fell into and were penalized) getting up a rope ladder, balancing on a beam, and doing an over-and-under exercise.

At the end of the day, Chris's skeleton hurt in several places. The suns nearly set over the mountains. The Marines trooped back to the barracks. "Well done, Marines!" Stacker called out not out of breath at all. "Get some sleep, men! We have the firing range tomorrow!" A few soldiers lightened up. Finally some fun. "Private Vennettilli, front and center. Double time, son."

Chris jogged to Stacker. "You wanted to see me, Sarge?" Stacker nodded. "Captain Benedict wanted me to tell you that you've been promoted to Private First Class. Congratulations." Chris was perplexed. "But, Sergeant, how can I…" Stacker held up a hand. "I know you're surprised. Typically, a Private needs to see combat before he can be promoted and that alone would take a few weeks, maybe even months." "So why...?" "Remember your medical results?" Chris nodded. "Yeah, they were 'Exceptional'." "Those results qualified you for a special program. You're part of an accelerated rank program, you and a million others scattered across this planet. What that means is that we're monitoring progress to see whether you're a natural leader or not. The men seemed to accept that when you crossed the ditch. Nice to see you kept your head by the way."

"So, if you think that I'm a leader, you'll keep promoting me?" "Not so fast." Stacker said. "We need to see you in combat as well. We'll see about the enlisted ranks when you're here in camp. Other than that, you're on your own. Now, get some rest."

Five hours wasn't long enough. Chris heard Reveille pound through his barrack speakers. Sergeant stacker walked into the room already fully clad in his combat armor.

"Up and em, ladies! Let's go! Move it, move it, move it!" The men stirred then got to their feet. "Exercise first, and then we go to the firing pits!" The men wearily trudged outside to bear the difficulty of daily calisthenics.

The burning passed relatively quickly this time around. After that, Stacker commanded. "Fall in! A little run to the firing range!" This little run was a few miles long which took them through the center of the base. Up in the alpines, snow formed in some places despite the temperate weather. On the outskirts of the base, the Marines heard the tell-tale metallic crackles of weapon fire.

At the range, thousands of soldiers tested their marksmanship skills. Chris's platoon walked to a section that was reserved for them. The suns hadn't risen fully yet. Stacker walked over to the quartermaster's shack and came back with a gun. "This is a XMP-12 Assault Rifle. She comes with an automatic ammo counter, heavy barrel for balance, extendable butt stock, and hard points all over the body. Today you will be firing them for a chance to earn marksmanship status. The quartermaster passed out the assault rifles and three magazines of ammunition.

"There are pits all over the area; one soldier per pit. We will have familiarization with the XMP-12 then we will have record fire, men. Is that understood?" A chorus of "SIR, YES, SIR!" roared through the marines. "Alright, get to your pits."

Chris chose pit number 9. Chuck was right beside him. "This is so cool! I always wanted to fire a gun!" Chris looked at him. "You know what, me too." Stacker called out, "Load one magazine of 36 rounds." He looked around and saw some soldiers having trouble. "It's easy, you idiots. Just place the clip into the receiver in front of the trigger. You'll hear a _clack_. If you do, pull back on the cocking lever, which is that ball over your trigger. If not, then you are probably stupid and have it upside down." Chris actually saw Private Nolan one pit over fumble and flipped his clip then started to blush. "Oops…" he whispered to the men next to him.

"Now I want you to pull back on the lever and allow the first round into the chamber. Chris did as instructed and felt the bullet pass into the tube. "Alright, eyes downrange, aim for your designated targets, ready? Commence firing!"

Chris pulled the trigger. A quick burst of lighting shone from the barrel. It sounded like lightning up close too. He was glad he was wearing earplugs. The first round splashed on the red target downrange straight on the chest of a target. A few other men hit their intended targets. "Feels good, huh, Marines?" Stacker said smirking.

"It was very loud, sir!" Chris noted. "Get used to it, Private First Class. It'll be like this from now onward." Chuck wheeled around. "What did he call you?" "Private First Class." Chris said. "Wait, wait, wait. You can't be promoted, you need six months time in service to be eligible for a promotion!" "I guess I'm special."

"Alright Marines. At least 50 targets must be hit. If 50 targets are not hit, you will have failed the exercise. Load up another magazine. I don't have all day, soldiers!" Chris fumbled to release his empty clip and insert a new one. He pulled back the charger and got ready to fire. A small display flashed on his divider. It showed the words HIT and MISS. Both numbers were at zero. "Open fire!" Stacker yelled.

The target came up rather slowly for Chris. He squeezed off a round before the target had fully come up. The weapon barked and a single spiraling bullet flew from the muzzle and pinged on the hard polycarbon exterior. The HIT counter showed 1. Chris watched as the first target fell and the second one rose. He hit the head section before it had fully extended.

"Wow." Stacker said as Chris hammered away at the targets. He hadn't missed a shot yet. "Excuse me, Sergeant Stacker?" a voice said. He turned to see a mid aged man with an eagle insignia on his arm with three chevrons. "Master Chief, sir!" Stacker saluted. The Chief returned his salute. "I'm Master Chief Petty Officer McLaren. I assume that you're training at least one Exceptional in this platoon?" "Yes, sir. Actually, there's just one. He's practicing just on the range. Number 9 actually." Chief McLaren cocked his head o see Chris firing his rifle with extreme accuracy. "Whoa. That's the young man, I take it?" Stacker nodded. "Yes sir. He hits the targets before the even come fully up." The Master Chief paused for a full second. "This is a rare gift. He may possess the ability to speed up his reaction time so quickly that it appears the outside world is going slower. It's commonly called 'Bullet Time'. We think it might be induced by adrenaline pumped into the bloodstream rapidly and in large amounts." Chris's rifle clicked and the ammo counter read zero. Chris released the clip lightning-quick and locked in the second one, cocked it in a blink of an eye and continued going. His rating was flawless so far. "Well, if that's what it takes for the PFC to succeed in this program, then it'll happen." Chief McLaren smiled. "I'm glad we see things eye-to-eye." Yes, sir!" Stacker saluted.

"Alright, cease fire, people!" Stacker called out. Instantly, the sounds of gunfire muted. "Let's check your scores." The sergeant walked down the range noting the HIT/MISS ratio on each soldier. The person with the highest rating was Chris with every single target hit, with most of his shots spread out in the chest and head area. "Private First Class Vennettilli! You have the highest score in the platoon with no misses!" The other marines looked at their colleague. Chris blinked. "Sir, what does that mean?" "It means we have things to talk about, son!"


	5. Chapter 4: Birth of a Leader

Chapter 4: Birth of a Leader 

October 27th 3232 1700 h (Military Calendar)

Fort New Hampshire, Alpha Centauri

Central Facility

Corporal Christopher Vennettilli Soldier's Log

Booting Up…

Load Complete

OmniTek DP-X21 Datapad Activated

User: Vennettilli, Christopher, Corporal

Service Number (82979-20782-CV)

/Begin Entry/

I was just issued one of these portable pads. They seem pretty cool. They're computers, notepads and a GPS system at the same time. Things have been happening since I was promoted again. So far, I've been ordered to see a _sensei_ that lives in the compound. He apparently wants to teach me how to use an energy that I've just come to terms with called "Bullet Time." It sounds very cool. It may also explain how I've been hitting the targets so well. Anyway, it seems like things are working out for me.

/End Entry/

"You must calm your breathing" The _sensei_ said to Chris. For two weeks now the Corporal had been trying to induce the same sensation that hit him on the firing range. However, progress had been slow.

In the room with Chris were a few other Marines and Air Force personnel that were all designated with this strange phenomenon. The master that Chris was looking at was a mid aged Asian man. He had a long beard that extended to shoulder level just like in the vids Chris used to watch. The room itself was identical to any dojo Chris had seen Earth-side. Mahogany walls, various swords and masks mounted on displays, a crackling fire in the middle, and an ancient bonsai tree planted in a small garden with sunlight flowing in from a skylight. By the looks of things, the master was growing impatient.

"You are all making slow progressions. I have expected some slow downs during our sessions but this is unacceptable." He stroked his beard for a second, considering. "Corporal, step forward please?" he said gesturing to Chris with an open hand. Chris cautiously stepped up. He looked at the _sensei _for a few seconds. Just then, the man's opposite fist came out of nowhere and connected with Chris's jaw. The force of impact was enough to lift him off the ground. The other acolytes grimaced as they heard the splintering bone and the thud of the marine's body hitting the floor. "Get up." The_ sensei_ ordered. Chris gasped in pain as the burning shot though his skull. He reluctantly got up to his feet and faced his teacher. His jaw slacked. It was either fractured or broken. Neither possibility was enjoyable. The master leered at the young marine. "I want you to concentrate on my fist. It will be either my left or my right. Concentrate on the danger that you might be in, the risk. Think about the pain you are feeling and concentrate on every fiber of your being to avoid it. Concentrate, concentrate…

Just then, the fist came.

It was strange. The _sensei _had faked a right hook and came back with a left uppercut. The pain in Chris' jaw was intense. Another direct hit like that would break it clean off his hinges. He'd be in the fracture clinic for weeks while the bones, ligaments and tendons grew back. He concentrated on avoiding that pain; he willed the world to slow down for him. It happened.

Two things then occurred. To Chris, the universe just went deathly silent. There was no gentle blue jay song as they were gliding in the Centaurian afternoon, no gentle rustling of wind through the bonsai tree planted nearby, and no crackling of wood from the nearby fire. Two, The _sensei_'s uppercut slowed down to one-quarter speed. A blind man could have avoided it. The stunned corporal sidestepped the lazily angling fist. He thought quickly, but tried not to take his mind off willing the effect to last. The teacher just realized there was something happening and turned his head slowly.Chris brought his armored arm guard down on the man's elbow joint. He silently yelled as the pain filled his body. Chris then swept the master's feet from under him and launched him. The effect wore off and the Asian _sensei_ landed ten feet from him. A few of the acolytes started to rise. Chris was worried the master would punish him for knocking him down. To his surprise, the man rose smiling. "Progress." He said in a low voice. "Excellent Progress."

Chris had done the same exercises for a few more weeks when a PFC came though the door. "Corporal Vennettilli?" the young man squeaked. "That's me." Chris said turning. "What can I do for you?" The PFC handed Chris a clipboard with orders pinned on it. They told him to report to the MechBay. Captain Benedict signed the orders so he had to move. The captain didn't like to say things twice.

The Compound was more alive today. A few Destroyers just slipped in from Tallahn V carrying dual battalions of marines onboard. Pelicans had already dropped into the atmosphere. Chris didn't stay to watch the fiery lines streaking through the clouds. The Corporal had to report to his next station. He slipped by two intimidating-looking Sergeants and advanced to the MechBay.

The MechBay looked just like an ordinary motor pool except it was much larger. The doorway looked about 100 feet high. Inside, gigantic fluorescent lights brightened the area revealing magnificent machines. Chris had seen a few Mechs while in the post, but never this close up. He spotted a circle of soldiers huddled around the legs of what Chris recognized as the Boomer Mech. It was instantly recognizable by its dominating right gauss cannon commonly called a 'King Crab' Chris walked up to the commanding officer. His nametag read 'Jekall, Marvin, Commander' "Commander Jekall, Corporal Christopher Vennettilli reporting as ordered, sir!" Jekall nodded. "Very good, have a seat." He gestured to a cargo crate. The Corporal obediently sat down.

"Now, you are all here for one reason." Jekall explained. "To be a Mechwarrior! Such a privilege has been granted to only a few of you. And if I've heard correctly, only a hundred of your ground-based brethren will have the same privilege." A private behind Chris said, "Sir, permission to speak freely?" Jekall nodded. "Granted, son. What is it?" "Why would we want Marines to pilot our machines when their assigned positions are on the front lines on foot?" Jekall considered this. "I'm afraid I have no direct answer to that question. The order came from higher up. So for the time being, we have to accept their decisions." He looked around at the soldiers. "OK, who wants to take her out?" Jekall smiled and selected Chris. "Corporal how about you give it a shot. I'll explain the details as you go." The other Mechwarrior trainees looked at Chris with mixed looks of envy and hate. He climbed up a ladder, which extended from the cockpit.

Inside, a helmet awaited him in the driver's seat. The controls looked similar to that of a fighter jet. Chris slipped on the helmet and flipped the visor over his eyes. A HUD automatically activated and numbers scrolled across the screen. A crosshair appeared dead center over Chris's nose. "That's where your Mech is aiming." Jekall said. He climbed up to the cockpit and was talking loud enough so that the other recruits could hear. "When the safeties get unlocked, your Mech will be shooting there too." Chris nodded, taking this all in. "Now, to switch on your Mech, I want you to first flip on the switch marked 'IGNITION'" Chris did so and he heard a rumble building up below him.

"That's the reactor started." He said to everyone in general. His voice was so loud he was drowning out the drilling and welding going on around him. "Secondly, Corporal. I want you to press the button labeled 'PWR DIST.'" Inside his head Chris said, _oh, this is going to be complicated_. "The second his finger tapped the button, a night-vision green representation of his Battlemech appeared on a screen both in front of him and in the corner of his visor display. One by one, pieces of the Mech were getting filled in by pulsing green. "Now, when the button is pressed," Jekall explained, "the computer calculates how much power that should be evenly distributed. Said power flows to parts of your Mech. When that area gets damaged, the computer retracts that power and redistributes it automatically."

Chris heard every detail the Commander spewed out for twenty minutes. It was at that time finally that he instructed him to take the Battlemech out. "OK, to accelerate your Boomer, just push the throttle forward to a speed of twenty KPH." Chris grinned as he lowered the cockpit and pushed the lever up. The digital counter on his visor told him how fast he was going. The meter stopped at 20 Kilometers Per Hour. Thumps beneath him told him that he was moving. _He was actually piloting a mech!_

Chris woke up with satisfaction over the next couple of days, same Reveille, same workout, same drills, same chow, same everything. Except, he accomplished things these ordinary troopers never thought of doing. One evening, he was on his way back to the barracks when Master Chief Petty Officer McLaren half-jogged up to Chris in DI uniform. "Corporal Vennettilli?" Chris saw the superior officer and snapped to attention. "Yes, sir!" He saluted. "At ease, marine." McLaren said, returning the gesture. "Staff Sergeant Stacker is missing, we haven't seen him for close to ten hours." Chris stared at the MCPO. "He's missing?" McLaren nodded. "That's right son. We know who might have done it but however, we can't find them." "What do you want me to do?" Chris asked already knowing the answer. "You're the highest ranking marine in the platoon next to Stacker. You'll need to take your troops and get him back." Chris' eyes darted back and forth with thought. "Permission to speak sir?" McLaren nodded. "Granted." "Sir, with respect, why my platoon? Why not send a special ops team to retrieve him?" "That's because all of the teams are participating in field exercises all the way on the other side of the mountain range. You're the only platoon big enough to stage a rescue operation. Now, there's no time for a debate, Corporal. Move OUT!" "SIR, YES SIR" Chris saluted and sped off.

They got their weapons from the quartermaster. McLaren told the marine with the guns about the situation. He passed over a few XMP-12 Assault Rifles, Zulu-12 Assault Rifles, M39 pistols and a handful of grenades. He also passed out ammo clips the MCPO commissioned himself. Chris inserted a clip into his XMP-12. He pulled the charging level and heard the _clack_. He turned to face his squad mates.

"OK, people. Sarge is missing." He paused to look at the marines, registering the looks of happiness on their faces. "I know you all think you have other things to do, but Sarge put up with us. We need to return the favor." He took a map out of his backpack and rolled it out. It showed the local area. On the map, a small settlement was nearby with a small population. "That's where Intel said Sarge was roughly, we need to travel with silencers so we don't cause commotion. It'll be our first stealth operation so if anyone has a question, speak up." Chuck raised a hand. "Yes, Private?" "What happens if we're detected?" Chris thought about it. "Fall back. Just fall back and turn off all electronics. Stay away from light sources and melt into the night. If you happen to lose him, rejoin the squad. OK, lets move out."

The Centaurian night was different from an Earth night. Alpha Centauri II had three moons. The largest was almost two times the mass of Luna. It had a mostly water surface. So when the suns reflected off the ocean, it made the night a lot brighter. Chris hadn't anticipated three full moons. It was almost as bright as twilight. It would make their night camo useless. Chris could see some of the lights from some of the small apartments. He took a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. These glasses had multiple filters, including a heat sensor.

A few blobs appeared in view. Two were in a top apartment floors. Sleeping in their beds. Another was watering flowers in a garden a few blocks down; another was an idling car right in front of them. But the blob Chris was concentrating on was one standing on a corner with an assault rifle in his arms.

Chris took a suppressor out of his utility belt and clipped it on his barrel. He aimed the iornsight at the target's chest. He steadied his aim and squeezed off one round. The rifle coughed and the bullet spiraled towards the target. The round hit and red fluid splashed out. The target convulsed and toppled to the ground. Chris motioned the squad forward to where the man with the gun fell.

He saw four more targets ahead of him. He pointed at Privates Aer, Wellington, and Chuck. He silently pointed at Bruce Aer and towards an isolated gunman. Aer scoped his Zulu-12 and fired the silenced weapon. The bullet caught the man in the back of the head and he went down. The other men rushed to see what happened when the all three of them cut them down. The open warehouse door with a light on told them that Sarge was inside somewhere. The platoon cautiously walked up to the door. The radar showed three contacts inside. Wellington primed a flashbang and rolled it in.

The grenade exploded and there were yelps from the men inside. The Marines cautiously walked in and finished the blinded terrorists. Sergeant Stacker was sitting in a chair in the center of the room. "Chuck, check Sarge's vitals." He nodded and placed his fore and middle finger on the Sergeant's Jugular. "He's fine. Probably got tranqed." "Wake him up." "Yes, sir." Chuck took out an Ontario Combat knife and slit the ropes holding the NCO in place. He removed the gag and slapped Stacker's cheeks to wake him up. Slowly, his eyelids flickered.

"Damn, son. It took you long enough." Stacker said shaking his head to get rid of the disorientation. "Were you comfy, Remus?" Chris asked. "Lets just say I'd feel a whole lot better in an inch thick bunk than gagged on a chair at gunpoint. Got a weapon on you?" Chris nodded and slipped the Sergeant his sidearm. The man exhaled and racked the slide to send a 12.9mm HE bullet into the chamber. "Let's move out marines." The soldiers responded saying "Sir, yes sir!"

The outside night was still. Neither of the blobs in Chris's heat sensor had come to see all the commotion. Not even the man watering his flowers. "OK." Chris said taking out a holo-projector and shining it on the pavement. "Here we are close to the outskirts of this town. We just have to go down this main road and we're safe in the tree cover." "Yeah I don't think so." Chuck said pointing at the warehouse corner. Two men appeared with rifles in their hands. One sighted on Chris, but Chris was quicker. With Bullet Time activated, Chris expertly sniped his opponent. The man squeezed the trigger as soon as the round hit. In this state of mind, Chris could almost see the bullet distort visible space around. It just passed by his ear and made him spin around. The squad finished off the other and ran to pick Chris up.

"Corporal, you OK?" Stacker called. "Yeah, just a close call." Chris said. He checked his radar. There weren't any more enemies in sight. "Make for the tree line. NOW!" Chris ordered. The marines double-timed it to the oaks that separated the town from the forest. Occasionally, the Corporal would do a double take since he heard a rustling behind him. It just turned out to be a squirrel or one of the furry non-sentient quadruped creatures called fallen native to the planet.

After half an hour of non-stop jogging, they reached the gate that led to the entrance of the camp. A warthog was parked next to it and standing there, wide-legged, hands clasped behind his back was Master Chief McLaren. He, to the marines' surprise, was smiling widely. Chris walked up to him and saluted sharply. The MCPO saluted back and said, "At ease, soldier. You did a damn fine job out there. I take it Sergeant Stacker was recovered without a hitch?" Chris answered, "Yes, sir. We had a few difficulties but we made it back." McLaren grinned even wider and said to Chris. "Would you like to meet the kidnappers?" The entire platoon was confused. Chris then said "Sir-?" the NCO turned his head and barked, "Fall in, ASAP!" around twenty black clad men in body armor jogged in and formed straight lines beside the Master Chief. Chris took this all in for a moment. They all ripped their masks off to reveal their faces. The platoon gasped as the men were from Beta Unit. They were part of the marines brought to ACII.

"Sir, if they were from Beta Unit, what did we shoot them with? It looked an awful lot like blood coming from the wounds." Chris noted. "Good observation. McLaren nodded. "Here's what the round actually looks like." He held up a bullet that had a paint-filled head. "The "blood" you saw was actually the same they use in making Hollywood movies. They could never pierce the combat armor they were wearing. You most likely gave them a few bruises at the most. We just painted the head brass to make it seem authentic. You would have no idea. Also, be thankful that nobody missed a shot, we would have spoiled the surprise." The Master Chief looked at Stacker. "And Sergeant Remus Stacker played the perfect damsel in distress." Stacker chuckled. "Aww, shucks. You're making me blush."

Chris' eyes darted back and forth in his head. "So, this was all a set up?" McLaren said, "A test actually." "For what?" Stacker spoke up. "To see if you had what it takes to lead these men and rescue a fellow marine." Chris turned the Chief. "And?" "You passed, son. Those men were giving it their all to try and stop you. You made squad leader!" The platoon exploded and applause. They clapped their leader on the back and shook his head. McLaren shook Chris' hand. "Congratulations, _Sergeant_." Chris smiled. _Sergeant_!


End file.
